


Warm, tingly feelings

by arc_el_ion



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Crossroads, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mementos (Persona 5), Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Underage Drinking, but only for akira and he doesn't actually get drunk, ohya positivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arc_el_ion/pseuds/arc_el_ion
Summary: Akira thought his impression of metaverse-Goro was on point, if a bit too loud given their being in public. Akechi must’ve thought otherwise, because before Akira could register what was happening, the cold wall of the subway was against his back and Akechi was right next to his ear. He was a barely-contained whisper, seething.“Shut. up.”Oh.Akira shut up alright.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 155





	Warm, tingly feelings

The trio was down to two after their last visit to the palace. They’d left with one less teammate and one more reason to kick Maruki’s ass. It’s just him and his murderer for now, then, Akira thinks. Well, _attempted_ murderer. But he hadn’t actively wanted to kill him, and he wouldn’t have tried if he didn’t feel like he had no other choice, so, it really wasn’t that bad, right?

Who was he kidding. It was bad. But it was so much more than just ‘bad’ - there were so many layers to their relationship, to Akechi’s revenge plan, to his supposed murder, to their tentative alliance, to the genuine connection underneath it all. It was so complex - just like Akechi himself. Maybe that’s why it was so addicting.

Maybe Akira forgave too easily. Or maybe he was just immensely entertained by Akechi’s… everything. The funny way he talks, his mercilessly sharp attitude, the stupid half-grin he wears when he’s about to sow chaos. And, more recently, how excited he gets in battle. It would almost - ALMOST - be concerning, if it weren’t so damn funny. Akira’s not sure if he means ‘funny’ in the interesting or comedic sense. Maybe both.

Right now, he and Akechi are together in Mementos, training for their upcoming quest to rescue Sumire. They tear through another pack of shadows, Goro taking immense pleasure in navigating, his maniacal laughter only growing louder with each shadow’s death. Akira does what he does best, and shows off at each and every possible moment, backflips and trickshots and dagger twirls galore.

This seems to only fuel Akechi’s euphoric state. It’s all “Damn, Joker!” and “Let’s destroy them.” when things go the way he likes. When things don’t go so well, he’s shouting abuse at the shadows and recklessly throwing himself at them with the promise of making their last moments on earth their “most painful”.

Akechi says a lot of interesting things in the metaverse. His tone makes it a bit hard to concentrate on battle, sometimes. Joker’s pretty sure he got hit with enrage at some point during it all, and though he wasn’t lucid enough to remember much, he’s also pretty sure Crow said something about liking it.

Huh.

Joker had never seen any of his other teammates experience excitement of this kind in battle. Then the thought hit him. Did Crow find this... _hot?_ Of course, Joker always had fun in Mementos, the adrenaline coursing through his veins always a welcome feeling as he and his team secured victory after victory. But Crow seemed like he was having a LOT of fun. Which again, Akira doesn’t mind. He’s mostly entertained by it.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts when he realizes he has an opening. A twirl of his blade, spinning the hilt between the index and thumb, a calculated toss in the air, and a swift singular motion as Joker catches the dagger and uses that momentum to slash at the Nebiros. It turns to black dust and vanishes. Were they in the real world, Akechi would probably have made some comment about how unnecessary all his theatrics were. But they weren’t in the real world, and here, Crow gleams with pride, continuing his eccentric monologue to seemingly no one.

“Joker took one down! I gotta keep up.”

Akira leaps back, narrowly dodging what would’ve been a nasty hit from a Chimera. Oh, the funny way he talks. Is he addressing an audience? It’s not like anyone’s watching them. He turns to shout back “Yeah, Joker sure did! And Joker’s gonna take another one down soon, so Crow better step up his game!”

He hears Crow’s ragged cry for Loki before he sees the curse spell swallow the Chimera as it vanishes along with the purple flame before him. Crow shoots him a wicked grin across the battlefield.

“If it’s a _competition_ that Joker’s looking for, then it’s a competition he'll get.”

“Oh yeah?” A smirk. “You’re on.”

They were so busy taunting each other that they altogether forgot about the third, final, weakest shadow, who used that precious time to call upon reinforcements. A shiki-ouji appears. Ah, just their luck. One of these invincible bastards. Crow focuses his next attack on the smaller shadow who’s already one foot in the grave while Joker dances around the shiki-ouji, charging up for his next magical attack. And then he’s falling, he must’ve lost his footing on one of the railings - narrowly avoids crashing on the floor by throwing his arms out. It seems like those few seconds were all the advantage the shadow needed, and as Joker looks up he sees a kouga spell headed straight for his chest. He braces for impact. When it comes, it takes him a second to register that he’s being kicked in the ribs instead.

He looks up from the ground where he’s been kicked out of the shadow’s reach and sees Crow, hit with his weakness, supporting himself on his edged blade. He thinks he hears a taunting ‘come on’ under his ragged breath, the maniac. Joker practically jumps off the floor to Crow’s side. He thinks Crow gets the idea. Akechi grins under his mask, his eyes wild and his pupils dilated.

“Ohh.. I’m getting a _warm, tingly_ feeling from _all this POWER!!”_

* * *

Joker assumes Crow took care of the smaller shadow earlier, since it was nowhere to be seen after they obliterated the shiki-ouji with the combined power of their Showtime.

It doesn’t take long for Akira to realize he’s out of energy and out of coffee. So, he calls it a day. He thinks, under any other circumstance, he would’ve made some witty remark like ‘well how are we supposed to tell who won when it was the power of friendship that won in the end?’, but he’s still a bit shocked at what Crow had looked like before they tore through that shiki-ouji. The tone he’d used, the way he’d said his stupid one-liner. That couldn’t have been normal. Right?

* * *

They step out of Shibuya station together, only a little scratched up from the day’s trip.

“I assume that will be all. I’ll be on my way, then.”

“You sure had fun in there, huh?”

Akechi shoots him a glare. Akira chuckles, despite himself.

“I’ve gotta say, I never expected you could get this excitable. It’s kinda funny.”

“Funny? I assure you, Joker, there’s nothing ‘funny’ about it,” He spits out the word funny, like the word’s existence itself is a joke. “Or about me.” he adds, like an afterthought.

“Oh? Well personally I find it hilarious. In there, you’re like a rabid animal, and then we get back to the real world -”

Goro scoffs.

“ - yeah, okay, the current ‘real’ world, and you’re back to pretending to be all calm and collected. You’ve gotta admit, there’s just something about that contrast.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean.”

“Oh come on. You totally do.”

“I beg to differ.”

_“Oh?”_

Akira grins like he’s already won.

“Sooo, I guess that whole ‘ _~ I’m getting a **warm, tingly feeling!** ~_ ’ thing was -”

Akira thought his impression of metaverse-Goro was on point, if a bit too loud given their being in public. Akechi must’ve thought otherwise, because before Akira could register what was happening, the cold wall of the subway was against his back and Akechi was right next to his ear. He was a barely-contained whisper, seething.

“Shut. up.”

Oh.

Akira shut up alright.

For all his usual dry wit, nothing could have prepared him for this. Akechi pushes himself off the wall so they’re face to face, giving Akira a warning glare before he’s completely off him, and Akira decides that the January air is especially cold today.

“I’m leaving now. See you.”

Akira just watches him go, too busy trying to process this new information to answer. This doesn’t seem to bother Akechi, who’s already disappeared in the crowd of identical-looking people wearing identical-looking smiles in identical-looking dark winter coats.

If Akira didn’t move from that wall for the next few minutes, no one would know. And if Goro Akechi’s face burned as he walked away, no one would know that, either.

* * *

Akira finds himself in Leblanc’s attic at some point in the evening, though he can’t remember how he got there. He was too busy trying - and failing - to stop thinking about Akechi, pushing him against a wall and whispering in his ear. _Why_ did he have to do it like _that_? Fair enough for the idea, he understood why Akechi would want to stop Akira from loudly imitating his viciously suggestive tone in public, but he could’ve had the decency to not do this to him. He could’ve… well, Akira doesn’t know what else would’ve gotten him to shut up. Except maybe a sucker punch to the face. He kinda wishes Akechi had done that instead.

Or, a traitorous part of Akira thinks, he could’ve taken the words straight out of his mouth.

Akira’s left wondering what it would’ve been like if Akechi had lightly bitten his neck while he was at it. Or maybe, how Akechi would’ve reacted if he’d spun around, slammed him to the wall instead. Or if one of them had closed the distance when Akechi gave him that final glare and… oh god, he needs help.

He knew there was a lot about Akechi that was broken, and romance should be the last thing on his mind. He should probably hate him, but he doesn’t, and he can’t bring himself to. Akira looks at Akechi and sees what he could’ve become under different circumstances. Akechi had been taught that life is war. But now, the war is over - well, no. For Akechi, it probably feels more like the war suddenly never existed. He’d spent all that time fighting, and now, there was no closure to it all. Akira wanted to see Akechi put down his sword, take off his armor. He wanted to see who Akechi could be when given the chance.

Of course, there was also their underlying connection. Even during their very first hangouts, he could feel there was something more there. A few glances that lingered just a little too long, entirely unnecessary phone calls, stories of childhood trauma. The last two would have given Akechi no advantage over him - if it was sympathy he was looking for, there was no need to tell him the truth. But he had, and Akira had a guess as to why.

He was being hopeful, of course, but in his defense, there was a lot of evidence pointing to that conclusion. Whether or not he reciprocated, after the events of tonight, Akira was absolutely sure of it - he liked Akechi. A lot more than he should.

Somewhere in his disorganized train of thought he remembers that they’d downed the last of his coffee today. Still kind of in a dazed state, he heads for the stairs to make some more for their next trip, whenever that is.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Futaba and Mona are there, talking animatedly at the counter. Human Mona still looks weird. And good. Why must the cat look good, Maruki? You could’ve made him look normal, but you made him hot instead. Are you proud of yourself?

When the pair see him, they greet him with some friendly shouting. There aren’t any customers, so that’s fine. Akira gives a weak little wave and gets to work behind the counter, the whole coffee-making process muscle memory at this point.

“Guess what!” says Mona, unprompted, and unprecedentedly loud. Futaba snorts next to him. Akira decides to humor him.

“Wha-”

“ _I’m_ having a sleepover with Lady Ann.” He cuts Akira off and smiles proudly to himself, somehow still looking like a smug cat, despite it all. Futaba cuts in.

“Yeah, and Ryuji, and Inari, AND me. The only reason Makoto and Haru aren’t coming is because they said they were busy tonight. But yeah, sure, _you’re_ having a _sleepover_ with _Lady Ann_.”

Mona looks significantly less proud than he did a second ago.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to put it like that! And, anyway, you three can keep each other busy, and I’ll just hang out with Lady Ann all night, and then maybe...”

While Mona talks to the splinters on the counter, Futaba picks up the newspaper she’d been completing a crossword puzzle on, rolls it into a bat, and bonks Mona over the head with it.

“ _Please_ stop. You’re giving me _premature secondhand embarrassment_. Do you even realize how complicated the psych behind that is?!”

She turns her attention to Akira.

“Sucks that you can’t come. We’ll be missing out on your…” She strikes a pose, then another, “Charismatic presence! Gentlemanly charm!”

“Yeah! Of course, I’m mainly going to make Lady Ann happy, but it would’ve been cool to have you in the background with the other guys.”

“I hope that whatever you’ve got planned is fun too, though!”

Akira remembers now - earlier that day, Ann had sent him a text asking if he was free for the day. Having his trip to Mementos with Akechi planned, he’d said no. That’s what it must have been about. She could’ve mentioned that it was an evening plan, he thinks. Technically he was free now, but honestly, the battles had left him exhausted and his body sore. Also, more notably, his head was full of… thoughts, of Akechi. Said thoughts are cut by Mona enthusiastically agreeing with Futaba again.

“Yeah Akira, hope you have fun! What _are_ you doing tonight, actually?”

Ah. Think fast.

“Uh. I’m. Going to the jazz club.”

Not convincing enough.

“...with Akechi.”

Better? Better, he decides, as Futaba and Mona react mostly once he adds on that second bit. Mona goes first.

“Man, you two have really been hitting it off recently, huh? Didn’t you two go do laundry or something together last time he was here?”

“I don’t think they were just doing laundry, Mona.”

Akira cannot deal with her teasing right now. “Uh, yeah, because we were talking. Not doing laundry. Or anything else.”

“Uh huh. You’re about as good of a liar as my mom.”

She turns to Mona, animatedly starting a tale about how Wakaba had tried to trick them, something about a family dinner. Akira is trying very hard to breathe at a convincingly normal pace. The counter in front of him blurs and, for just a second, there’s a strange ringing in the back of his skull. Okay. Inhale, exhale. Get out.

Oh, right, coffee. As normally as he can, he fills a thermos and hastily cleans up the equipment. Stumbles upstairs to grab his coat off the couch, then back down, towards the door.

“Heh, you’re certainly eager, mister ‘we were just talking’.”

“Off to the jazz club, then?”

Akira nods at Mona, promptly walking out while Futaba’s lingering “Have fuuuunnnnn!!” is cut off by the door swinging shut behind him.

* * *

He’s about halfway to Kichijoji when he remembers that his fake plans are fake. He weighs his options.

1\. Go back home, explain the misunderstanding, pretend not to be distracted all night at Ann’s.

2\. Wander the city aimlessly alone.

3\. Make the fake plan a real one and invite Akechi to Jazz Jin.

The first is out of the question, he doesn’t have the emotional energy for that tonight. The second is safe, but.... well, an affinity for safety isn’t exactly the kinda trait you’d expect of a phantom thief, now, is it? That leaves him with option 3 - none of his other friends are available, but then again, he thinks, even if they were, none of them are really themselves right now.

He types out a message. Expects to receive some snarky reply about brainless sentimentality, instead receives a surprisingly quick “sure, I’ll be there at 10. don’t be late.”.

* * *

Well he certainly won’t be late, Akira thinks drily. When he makes it to Kichijoji, he has just under an hour to spare. It’s unnerving, walking past the crowd - they’re all smiling, and their eyes look ahead, but they’re unfocused, glazed over. He wonders if the joy any person in this crowd is feeling right now is their own. Does serotonin still count if it’s going to the brain of someone who no longer exists as themselves?

His aimless wandering has brought him to the secondhand fashion store. What the hell, might as well. As he steps in, the manager instantly recognizes him, and strolls right up to him.

“Heyyyy, it’s our number one customer! What’s up, dude? Got more clothes to donate?”

His merchant’s smile is very good. Akira wonders if he had to practice it in the mirror to get it to look like that. He wonders if everyone in this happy world feels even a little pain when they get home after a long day of never giving their cheek muscles a break.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” He searches his bag for the few ragged pieces of cloth they’d found on the dirty metaverse floor. Brings them all out, dumps them in a pile next to the register. “There they are.”

“Ohhhh, these are awesome, dude! Man, you really just bring in the coolest stuff, huh?”

Akira smiles politely. This man certainly has energy.

“Y’know what, I’m havin’ a kicker day today, so I’ll let you pick whatever you want from the store. But don’t get greedy, nothin’ more than like, 5 items. Still have a business to run, y’know!”

“Haha, yeah. Thanks.”

Akira’s an empathetic person, and he knows this about himself - he tends to absorb the emotions around him, which often creates a huge, complicated mess in his head. But this man’s joy isn’t infectious. More than anything, it makes him feel uneasy.

He leaves that thought at the counter as he steps towards the items on display. He starts looking around the store, but his eyes are immediately drawn to a bright red spot in the corner of the room. It’s a selection of gloves.

Akechi always wears gloves. Why does he do that, anyway? Is it just because they look good? They _do_ look good.

And then he’s struck by genius.

He checks out with a pair of standard red gloves, a brown leather peacoat, a striped tie, and a red scarf he thought looked cool. His school trousers will fit perfectly with the ensemble - so he doesn’t bother with any new pants. The tie won’t be visible under it all, but well, it’s free, and it’s for the concept.

He has now adopted his alter ego : reverse Goro. Inverted Goro..? Well, it’s the concept that matters. And the look on his face won’t need good wording, anyway.

With the manager’s permission, he uses the changing room there, and walks out of the store a new man. He stuffs his other clothes in his thankfully cat-free bag.

Making terrible fashion choices is surprisingly time consuming, and when Akira checks his phone, it’s 22:03. He rushes to Jazz Jin, all of his thoughts entirely focused on how Akechi is going to react to his getup. So much so that he forgets entirely about the Subway Incident. The entrance is busier than usual, Akira notes. Must have a singer in tonight. He heads down the stairs.

* * *

Akechi is waiting patiently at a table strategically placed close to the band yet with a full view of the entrance - as expected of a strategist. What Akechi was not expecting was a full view of Kurusu dressed up in actual decent clothes. The look is almost familiar, almost similar to… oh. That bastard.

Akira nods at Muhen, who reciprocates with an approving nod of his own. It’s easy to spot Akechi, and Akira does so almost immediately, heading there wearing a knowing grin as he approaches the unimpressed glare waiting for him.

“So? How do I look?”

“Not completely awful. Must’ve gotten inspired by someone with a really good sense in fashion, hm?”

“Ah, yeah, there’s this guy I know who dresses like he’s a middle-aged dude permanently stuck in the 50s. Thought it would be fun to try it out.”

“Right. I’m certain this guy you know looks ravishing in his clothes.”

Akira’s brain unhelpfully supplies him with ‘I’m sure he looks ravishing out of them too’. Instead of saying that, he drops his bag on one of the chairs, and takes the seat next to Akechi.

“It’s such a terrible style that I just had to see if anyone at all could pull it off. For the sake of scientific hypothesis, y’know?”

“Well, I can confirm that _anyone_ would look delightful in those clothes. Why, even you look decent!”

“So you think I look good, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kurusu.”

Their verbal sparring session is interrupted by a waitress who promptly takes their orders and leaves. The band starts tuning their instruments, their singer taking a sip from her nearby water bottle.

“I can’t believe you spent actual money just to get a one-time reaction out of me.”

“You can’t?”

"No, you’re right. I can.”

Akira snorts. What an asshole.

“Actually, I didn’t spend any money on these. You know that secondhand shop down the street?” A nod. “Well, I go there a lot, and the manager let me have my pick of a few clothes today. Said he was having a ‘kicker’ day. I saw these gloves -” He raises one gloved hand, flexes it. “-and I thought about you. Hence the amazing idea.”

“I suppose every day will be a ‘kicker’ day for that man from now on.”

“...yeah, I guess so.”

The air was heavy with the weight of their looming responsibility. Luckily, the waitress was back in no time with their drinks : a pink, fruity mocktail topped off with one of those silly umbrellas. Akira plucks his off the cup.

“Hey look, this umbrella looks just like my scarf! Guess it was just written in the stars that I would one day become reverse.. Akechi.”

He remembers at the last second that they’re not on a first name basis. Why the hell not, he isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think this is the ideal moment to address it.

“....reverse… Akechi. Wow. I genuinely cannot comprehend how you ever managed to outsmart me.”

“That’s probably why we outsmarted you, dontcha think?”

Akechi rolls his eyes, turns his attention to the drink. Brings it to his lips - oh. His lips.

Right, that’s what he was supposed to be nervous about. He got pinned to the wall by the boy in front of him and for a few glorious minutes he’d spent his day without the issue on his mind. But they’d managed to be completely normal until now, right? He’d be making it weird if he started acting differently now. If they both pretended that it didn’t happen, it wasn’t a problem. When Akira’s train of thought reaches its final station, he realizes that he has not torn his gaze from Akechi’s lips. He quickly changes that, looking at his eyes. He’s smirking. Okay, so, no pretending it didn’t happen, then. That’s fine.

“Something wrong, Kurusu?”

“No, nothing at all. I was just thinking about how awesome my red gloves are. Maybe I’ll start wearing these all the time, make a fashion statement like you.”

Whatever scheme was budding in Akechi’s eyes dies. He averts his gaze, goes for another sip of his drink. His tone switches from low and teasing to low and quiet.

“It isn’t a fashion statement.”

Akira only notices that the band has been playing once they stop, switching their music sheets for the next song. The silence is deafening. When the band starts back up again, they’re playing a song Akira thinks he recognizes. It’s upbeat, jazzy in every sense of the word. Ah, they’re playing Take Five. The music is good, and he and Akechi sit in a silence that grows more comfortable with each note the saxophone plays. They reach the end of the song and the room cheers. A few shuffling music sheets, a new song, this one with vocals. Akira doesn’t recognize it, but it’s nice.

“Why do you invite me here?”

Akira nearly jumps at the sudden noise, though it wasn’t anywhere near loud.

“Well, I was free tonight, and -”

“No, I don’t mean tonight. I mean… why do you insist on spending time with me? I’m of no use to you outside the metaverse. Why waste your time?”

There is so much to unpack there, and Akira can’t sort through his thoughts quickly enough to respond before Akechi continues.

“I don’t understand you. I never have, and I’m starting to think I never will. I’ve taken so much from you and yet you insist on continuing to give and to give -”

Akechi’s voice was rising, and he must’ve realized that too because before it got too noticeable he cut himself off, continuing in more of a hushed tone. He sounds tired.

“Don’t you realize I have nothing more to offer you, Kurusu? I already owe you my life. What more do you want from me?”

Oh, the band stopped playing. They’re shuffling through music sheets again. Akira tries shuffling through everything Akechi’s just said, trying to find a way to say what he thinks about it all. Trying to decide what he thinks about it all.

“Look, Akechi… I don’t ‘want’ anything from you. You don’t owe me your life. It’s really simple, actually, why I keep spending time with you. I like it. I like you. This isn’t a waste of my time, I’m spending it with a friend.”

Akechi chuckles harshly. It sounds sad. “After all I’ve done, you consider me a ‘friend’?”

“I can call you my rival, if you prefer. But yes, you’re important to me, despite it all.”

“...you truly are inexplicable.”

They spend the rest of the evening sipping at their drinks and listening to the band. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, and at some point they start chatting about more comfortable and usual topics for them - philosophy, chess, the occasional story. When the band starts packing up, the guests of the club start leaving, too. The two boys head towards the stairs amidst the small crowd. 

* * *

They’ve reached Kichijoji station, walking side by side. Akira knows the night is over, knows he’s spent enough time away from home for his story of being busy to be convincing. Well, actually, fiction had become reality, and therefore his story was true and therefore he was fine. Oh, right, there won’t be anyone home tonight to prove his sufficiently late return to, anyway. They’re all at Ann’s.

They’re at the ticket station when Akira is hit with the sudden urge to stop Akechi from leaving, spend more time with him while he’s got him. He really doesn’t want the night to end. Sure, it had been nice, but it had all felt too short. And, well, what was wrong with a little self-indulgence? Before he can convince himself not to, he turns to face Akechi, who raises an eyebrow expectantly. He feels stupid asking.

“Hey, uh... I'm not really ready to go home. Do you wanna wander around for a bit more? I know this place - Crossroads, you might’ve heard of it - it’s pretty nice, and the owner knows me. It should still be open.”

Akechi considers for a moment. Seems he’s kept his detective prince's thinking pose. He then gives a non-committal shrug.

“Not like I have anything to go home to.”

Akira grins like an idiot, and when their turn comes to use the machine, they get a ticket each for Shinjuku. 

* * *

The neon glow of the red light district is especially blinding now that the sky above has turned to black. It must be approaching midnight - Mona would be furious. Akira wonders for a moment if everyone at Ann’s has already gone to sleep. The thought makes him smile. Not long after, they’re walking through the door of the bar Akira knows so well.

“Hey hey, it’s my favorite news source! What’s up, Akira!”

Ohya’s grinning, and after a beat her eyes widen, seemingly something’s crossed her mind, and she leans towards them from her seat at the counter, adopting a conspiratorial tone.

“Hey… isn’t it kinda late? What’s up? Is this a… special day, or something?”

Her stage whisper is loud enough for the entire bar to hear, but no one’s listening. Akira isn’t sure how to respond, so he makes some weird nod-shake-shrug motion that conveys absolutely nothing, and Ohya just looks even more confused. Akira turns his attention to the crowd instead : it’s definitely not empty, but not as busy as on a Sunday, either.

“Hey, kid. Didn’t know you stayed up this late.”

Lala’s busy preparing a drink, but she’s moved towards their end of the counter to talk.

“You know I don’t serve alcohol to teenagers, right? I’m not about to get my license confiscated.”

There’s something about the way Lala talks that exudes authority. It was all Akira could do to not answer ‘yes ma’am’. Instead, he dons the laid-back personality he’s known for.

“Yeah, I know. That’s not what we’re here for.”

Akechi shifts beside him. Akira realizes that before that very moment, he’d been unnaturally still, to the point of him almost forgetting the other boy’s presence. He must be uncomfortable, then. They should sit away from the crowd…

“Hey, Lala, do you think my friend and I could go sit at that booth over there?”

He points to the corner of the bar, at the one spot which is thankfully still free.

“It’s not like there’s any reservations, kid. Knock yourself out.”

Akira nods thankfully at Lala, and heads for the booth, Akechi trailing not far behind. It’s got one of those couches that wraps along the wall, surrounding a square oak table. The lounge is far from fancy, but it’s comfortable, and Akira thinks he likes that better. They sit one on each corner of the wrap-around couch, not quite next to each other but not quite opposite the other either.

“You know I’m legal, right? I turned 18 this June.”

“Oh. Uh, I guess, yeah. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Right, Akechi was 18. He knew that. It just didn’t click in his mind what that meant in this situation. He wonders, has he been to many bars before? He’s sure he’s had to endure social gatherings with Shido’s men in the past - was he forced to drink there? Did he choose to?

“Well, I’m getting something. Is there anything you’d like?”

“Uh, water, thanks.”

Akechi smiles his sharp smile, clearly amused, but doesn’t comment. And with that taunting smile on his face, he gets up out of the booth and walks towards the bar. Akira’s left to his thoughts, but not for long, as Ohya almost immediately slides in next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“Heyyyy, soooo, back there, you made some weird kinda gesture when I asked what was up, and as a journalist it is my duty to uncover the truth, so, tell me - what’s goin’ on? Who’s this with you?”

“Oh, that’s Akechi. He’s -”

But Ohya has leaned in closer before he can continue, resting what felt like all of her body weight on Akira’s side. She whispers a bit too close to his ear.

“Hey, y’know, if you were…. uh…. y’know… that would be totally cool.”

Akira does not know. What in the hell -?

“Uh. What?”

She pulls away a bit, so he can see her face. “Y’know, like…” she does a gesture, widens her eyes, waiting for Akira to understand whatever kinda charade is going on here. “Y’know!” she seems to be losing hope, clearly doing everything in her power to avoid saying whatever it is that he is supposed to know. She leans back in, whispering once again.

“Like…. like Kayo and I. We’re, well, a bit closer than most friends. Like, we like to... uh…”

A hesitant pause.

“...kiss. So. Is that what’s going on here?”

Ah. Well, keen eye, Ohya. Spot-on gaydar. Unfortunately, that’s a question Akira doesn’t have an answer to. He sighs, and whispers back.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes I think it is, but it’s just a feeling. Nothing’s happened.”

Though he doesn’t say much, the more he talks, the wider Ohya’s grin gets. It’s honestly impressive how far her mouth can stretch - Akira thinks he has a full view of each and every one of her teeth right now. When she speaks again, she’s still whispering, but her voice is cracking, toeing the line between a whisper and a voice.

“Ahhh! I _knew_ it! Okay, okay, so - I totally get it. Kayo and I danced around it for like, a year. But if you want my advice - and you _do_ , because I give the best advice - you should just go for it. It might be mutual! Either way, it’ll stop eating at you.”

Akira just gives her a look, another weird kinda gesture that probably looks like a mix between anxiety and a shrug. She chuckles at that for a moment, then gasps.

“Oh! I could sneak you guys something, if you want. Just - promise not to tell Lala, okay? I need her in my good graces. I come here pretty often...”

Ohya’s drinking problem had always been a concern for Akira, but it didn’t stop her from being charming in her own way. He’s grateful for her conspiratorial side, which must be natural for a journalist, but hers in particular held a spark of youthfulness to it that Akira could appreciate.

“Thanks, but actually, Akechi’s legal. He’s gone to get a drink.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s why he left. I hadn’t really thought it through, just saw a chance to get you alone and, y’know, grabbed it.”

In the background, he sees said boy pick up two drinks and turn towards their booth.

“He’s coming back.”

Ohya straightens up immediately.

“Oh! Okay! Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t let me down!”

She grins at him, winks, and heads off. Akechi’s back at the booth by then. He’s holding two drinks, but neither are the clear liquid Akira had ordered.

“Uh, where’s my water?”

“We’re at a bar in the middle of Tokyo’s red light district, and you think I’m gonna get you water?”

He slides one of the cups over. It looks like a very fancy milkshake.

“Dulce de Leche. I won’t force you to drink it. If you don’t like it, you can get yourself water.”

Akechi takes a sip of his drink, which, Akira notices, is identical. Is this Akechi’s favorite, then? Curious, he gives his cup a tentative sip. He finds that the drink not only looks like a fancy milkshake, but tastes like one too.

“This kinda feels like drinking a milkshake.”

“It’s not very strong, but it’s a favorite of mine.”

“I remember you saying that the whole ‘thing for sweets’ you had was just PR, but - this is REALLY sweet.”

“Well, Kurusu, the best lies are based in truth.”

Akechi speaks of his detective prince era in the same way Akira would imagine a veteran would speak of war. An expert in the field, but wanting nothing more to do with it. That’s another thing Akira can appreciate about Akechi as he is now : he has no more reason to lie, so he doesn’t. At least not in the ways he did before.

“That seems like an awfully profound comment for a conversation like this. Sure you don’t just like sweets?”

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re not wrong. I don’t actively dislike sweets.”

“Do you speak exclusively in double negatives?”

“Yes, fine, _I like sweets_. Happy?”

“Very.”

This was kind of an intimate setting, Akira thinks. Together in a small booth at a bar on a cold winter night. He can’t help but think that the Subway Incident from earlier today felt more intimate. Oh, that reminds him…

“Hey, Akechi?”

“Mmh?”

How to phrase this…

“You seem to really, uh, enjoy yourself, in the metaverse. Has it always been like that, for you?”

Akechi puts his drink back down. Looks at him thoughtfully.

“Well, not in the way you’re thinking. Being in the metaverse has always given me a feeling of power, as I’m sure it has for you. But, fighting by your side, it’s… different.”

“Different… how?”

“You complement my style. Teamwork tends to slow me down, but as seems to be the norm for you, you’re different somehow. _Special.”_

Well, that’s not exactly what Akira was looking for, but oh well. They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer until Akira summons up the courage to be more straightforward. Or, as straightforward as he can be in the euphemistic, metaphorical way their conversations tend to go.

“Hey, Akechi?”

This time the other boy just looks at him, indicating that he has his attention.

“Is power… _all_ you feel? In there.”

Akira lets his voice drawl out the word ‘all’. Akechi doesn’t smile, but his eyes do.

“Why… whatever could you mean by that, Joker?”

“Well, you seem _awfully_ excited in battle. I’m just wondering if there’s anything more to your _enjoyment_.”

“Hmm, well… let me think about it.”

Akechi’s voice is close to a whisper - wait, Akechi’s next to him? When had he moved to this side of the booth?

“If you don’t mind my asking - which I’m sure you don’t - I would like some clarification. Are you asking if I’m awfully excited in battle,” he leans in, right next to his face. He’d been there just earlier today, Akira thinks, uselessly.

“or _by_ it?”

That _is_ what Akira had been hinting at, but to hear him actually say it… this was getting fun.

“Whichever one you have an answer for, _detective_.”

“And why are you so interested, Kurusu?”

“You’re clever, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Ah, but you’ve never been an easy one to ‘figure out’, have you?”

“There’s more I can reveal about myself, if you need the extra guidance.”

They’re close - _really_ close. Akira can feel Akechi’s ribcage move ever-so-slightly, can feel the soft breath against his neck as the other boy breathes. They’re not looking at each other, and maybe that’s what makes it so easy. He feels a gentle tug at his ear, then that whisper again.

“If you do what I say, I’m sure I’ll find all the answers I need.”

Akira is extremely thankful for the table over his legs. Okay - use your words.

“Mona’s at Ann’s tonight.”

Akechi pulls away from the side of his face - he’s got a wicked grin.

“Why, how convenient. Shall we be off, then?”

Akira shoots back a smirk of his own. 

* * *

Leblanc’s bell rings into the empty cafe as two boys fall through the door, already crashing their lips together. The pair stumble for another few steps, until one of their backs hits the edge of the bar counter - and then Akira is being lifted up, and Akechi is between his legs and kissing him and -

“Mmnh - Akechi, wait.”

The boy pulls away, raises an eyebrow.

“The door - I’ve gotta lock the door.”

He frowns, but takes a step back, letting Akira slide off the counter. Sojiro always keeps the spare in that one spot behind the counter…

“I’ll be upstairs.” Akechi announces, already halfway to the attic.

He finds the key in the usual spot, and finds that his hands are trembling a bit when he locks the door, puts the key back, and heads upstairs. Akechi’s sitting on his couch, observing the unique decorations around the room.

“You like my sky tree lamp?”

Goro doesn’t grace that with a reply. He just sits there, but his eyes aren’t focused on anything.

“This is a bad idea.”

Oh. Akira drops the light teasing, takes a seat next to him on the couch. Akechi’s staring straight ahead, angled down, eyes still unfocused.

“Akechi… can I call you Goro?”

He nods to the floorboards, his expression unreadable. Akira gingerly reaches out his hand, resting it on Goro’s cheek. He turns Akechi’s face to his. His eyes look tired as they drag up to meet his.

“Goro, I want this. I want you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

He’s speaking so softly. Akira is filled with the overwhelming urge to cuddle him, let him fall asleep in his arms as the world around them and all its problems fades away.

“Goro, I thought you were dead for like, a month. And I was so happy on christmas day because finally, I had you back, but you’ve been putting up all these walls and tonight for the first time ever I feel like I’m with you, really with you, so…”

Akira brings his other hand to Akechi’s other cheek. He feels the other boy lean into the touch ever so slightly.

“...is this okay?”

Their foreheads are pressed together, their noses brush. Akira is staring deep into Akechi’s eyes, still cupping his face. Goro’s eyes regain their focus. He answers Akira by closing the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, ever, so I'm kinda nervous. Hence, the fade to black. Rip to those of you who wanted to read that too... maybe in future fics tho 👀
> 
> Drop a comment if you liked it or if u have advice or anything <3
> 
> Oh and come talk to me on tumblr! I do art also <3 [Arc](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/arc-el-ion)


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